


l'enfant sauvage

by baberahamlinkin



Series: The Open Road [2]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Canon belongs to me now, Concerned Panam, Derogatory Language, Explicit Language, F/F, Johnny does not drink his respecting women juice, Johnny is still an asshole, Johnny possesses V, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Possession, Seizures, Sexist Language, Tenderness, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans V, also fuck Johnny he's a bastard, bisexual Panam, but I guess he and V are reluctant pals, fuck that chip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28226409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baberahamlinkin/pseuds/baberahamlinkin
Summary: “V doesn’t smoke.” Panam says it so casually it even surprises herself. She’s never seen V switch beforeー fuck, she didn’t even know that could happen. “You’re not her.”“No shit.” V’s laugh is low, throaty, cigarette dangling from her still smirking lips. She lights it and takes a drag like it’s the first cigarette she’s had in a lifetime, eyes closing in a pleasurable half-lidded gaze.
Relationships: Female V/Panam Palmer, Panam Palmer/Female V, Panam Palmer/V, V/Panam Palmer
Series: The Open Road [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068500
Comments: 8
Kudos: 236





	l'enfant sauvage

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos on my last V/Panam fic!!! I really appreciate them! I decided to write a little more for them, as a treat to me and all of you. Decided to add a little Johnny in, even though he's a rat and I don't particularly like him. I doubt he's going to be friendly or nice to anyone, so Panam isn't going to be an exception; especially when he's in V's head and knows everything V knows and feels about her. As always I don't know how to end things, so this is what you get!!

“Hey V, you alright?” Panam glances up as the weight of the car creaks beneath V’s weight. The woman’s leaning over, arms pressed up against the side of the car and head hanging down toward the ground. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t throw up against the side of my ride, you know.”

V absentmindedly waves a hand at Panam, “‘S nothing,” V groans, “just nauseous. You know how it is.” Panam doesn’t, though. She frowns in concern as she finishes wiping her hands off on an old, oily rag. 

“V.” Panam’s voice is low, warning. Like a parent about to scold a child, or a concerned friend. Either is plausible, knowing V’s track record for stupidity… though, to be fair Panam’s got quite the record too. “Thought you were gonna help me with the engine, not inspect the dirt.”

“Can you just give me a moment?” V asks, squeezing her eyes shut. “Getting a little dizzy. Sorry Panam... I know I said I’d help, I just…” V trails off, like if she keeps her mouth open any longer it’s not just words that’ll be coming out. Panam figures it’s the relic, that stupid chip lodged into V’s head. If she could she’d rip it out herself, rid V of that bioware, but she can’t. Not without losing her best friend, her rock, her… well, Panam isn’t about to dive into anymore specifics. 

“Is it… y’know.” Panam gestures to V’s head. “Your friend upstairs?”

V spits at the ground like she’s trying to get rid of some foul taste in her mouth. The saliva hits the ground and paints it red, she’s bleeding. “He’s not my friend.” V mutters. “More like a fuckin’ parasite.” Panam makes her way to V’s side, hand resting against V’s back. V’s burning up almost worse than the sun outside. Panam swallows, suddenly anxious. 

Six months is not a long time.

It seems like it is, but it’s not. 

Panam knows many things; she knows about cars, about the open road, and she likes to think she knows stuff about other people too… and Panam knows six months isn’t long, not in the grand scheme of things. But it’s all V has, next to Panam herself and their little rag-tag group of Nomads and her friends back in Night City. But they’re not here with V, not like Panam is. V presses her forehead against the car, the cold metal almost soothing the dull ache that’s reverberating through her skull and her teeth like an endless earthquake. 

“Hey,” Panam’s trying to soothe her now, an arm around V’s waist and a hand on her shoulder, “let’s sit you down, yeah? You’re not looking too hot.” V only laughs, dry and without humor, and Panam maneuvers V toward the ratty cot she’s got in the corner of the tent they’re using as a garage. V leans back against the chair, brushing some of her hair from her eyes. It’s sticking to her forehead from how much she’s sweating, the usual shiny teal now a slimy dark blue against her forehead. Panam touches her fingertips to V’s cheeks, still frowning.

“I know,” V manages a small smile, “I look like shit.”

“You usually do.” Panam smiles back, though she’s mostly joking. “It’s the relic, isn’t it?” For a moment, V’s silent. She glances off to the side like she usually does when _he’s_ talking to her. She doesn’t speak, instead her features just scrunch up in disgust. Panam offers a knowing smile, “He’s here, isn’t he?”

“He always is.” V mutters. She brings her hands up to her face, palms rubbing at her closed eyes as she tries to massage away the headache. “Fuck me, my fucking head…” Panam places a hand on V’s shoulder, gently rubbing like she can make it all go away. 

“I’ll go get Mitch.” Panam says. “We’ll check it out, yeah? You want me to ring anyone?” V doesn’t answer, just shakes her head with a soft groan. Fuck, Panam can’t imagine how bad it must hurt if V’s acting like thisー _V_ , of all people; who Panam’s seen get shot, decked, and kicked without making so much as a single sound… and to see a tiny, insignificant chip of all things bring V to her knees… 

It’s almost scary, even for Panam. 

She parts the tent flap with her hand and steps outside, jaw set to keep herself from allowing any sort of lump to form in her throat. It doesn’t work, not in the slightest, but Panam can still pretend like it does. She finds Mitch by their little campfire, surrounded by their compatriots as they laugh and sing. Not much to worry about right now, not with anyone after them or anyone willing to fight. V getting the Basilisk with Panam had ensured some sort of safety, even if it doesn’t always last. Panam licks her lips, uneasy, as she approaches them.

“Mitch,” she keeps her voice low, unassuming. Just for Mitch to hear, no need to cause any sort of alarm. “Can you come help me out? Got something that needs another set of hands.”

Mitch laughs, taking a swig of his beer, “What? Isn’t V in there with you? She’s the one with the armsー”

Panam shakes her head, “No, I need you too. Just… c’mon, Mitch.” Mitch’s laugh falters, a more serious look overtaking his grizzled features as the veteran slowly puts down his beer. 

“Alright, then.” He climbs to his feet, concern tugging at his brow, and follows Panam back to the tent. Panam resists the urge to fiddle with her sleeves, to tell Mitch what this is all about right away, and manages to stay strong. When they get back, V’s slumped over in the chair. It takes less than half a second for Panam to realize V isn’t moving.

“V! Shit!” Panam rushes to her side, skidding to her knees to take V’s sweaty face in her hands. Blood trickles down V’s lips, a thin stream that breaks and falls to the ground when she’s disturbed by Panam’s touch. Panam gives her a shake, trying to get V to respond; to do _anything._ “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Panam hisses, shaking V again. “C’mon, asshole!” 

V sucks in a breath. It rattles in her throat, garbled by the blood in her mouth, and she coughs. She paints the dusty ground with red speckles as her head falls back, eyes slowly rolling into the back of her head. Her mouth hangs open in a surprised ‘o’ as her body begins to twitch and jerk, spluttering almost lifelessly as Panam tries to steady V. 

“ _Shit shit shit shit_ ー” Panam’s frantic now. She tries to hold V’s head still, tries to keep V from hurting herself. Mitch is by her side in seconds, trying his best to help. He’s a little stronger, he’s got the military mods from his time; but V’s seemed to tap into some hidden well of strength as she convulses.

"I'll go find something, someone!" Mitch says as he bounds out of the tent, hopefully to get something of assistance.

It feels like it lasts for an eternity, but Panam thinks it’s really only been ten or twenty seconds when V finally stops; her chest heaving with panicked breaths as her eyes flash open. They’re bloodshot, paranoid.

“Fuck.” V groans, but it’s not her voice. Not exactly. It’s lower, raspier. V’s arms slowly come to rest in front of her, legs spreading out as she huffs and wipes at her mouth in minor annoyance. Her sleeve comes back bloody, and V shakes her head. Her eyes slowly track up to Panam’s, but it’s not really V that’s looking at her. V’s lips split into a sneer, teeth flashing along with the gold snakebites in her lips. V reaches into her jacket pocket, drawing out a well-worn packet of cigarettes and a lighter that looks like it’s seen much better days.

“V doesn’t smoke.” Panam says it so casually it even surprises herself. She’s never seen V switch beforeー fuck, she didn’t even know that could happen. “You’re not her.”

“No shit.” V’s laugh is low, throaty, cigarette dangling from her still smirking lips. She lights it and takes a drag like it’s the first cigarette she’s had in a lifetime, eyes closing in a pleasurable half-lidded gaze. Panam reminds herself it’s not V, that’s not her V… but she does like the way that expression looks on her body. She pushes the thought down, it’s not right to think about those things. Not now. V plucks the cigarette from her lips, examining the burning tip as she chuckles. Slowly, her eyes rake over Panam, “So you’re the piece of ass V likes gawking at, huh? I can see why.” 

Vー well, _Johnny_ in V’s bodyー leans forward on her elbows, shaking her head with a soft laugh, “I didn’t like you at first. Thought you were too talkative. But you’ve grown on me, you know? Her too, I’m sure.” V takes another drag, then laughs; smoke billowing from her parted lips. “God, I missed being in control.” V stretches out, kicking her legs up and onto the lid of Panam’s toolbox. 

“What have you done with V?” Panam asks, eyes narrowing as she folds her arms over her chest. “Her body, her mind, doesn’t belong to you.”

V laughs, tapping the side of her head, “She’s right here. Out for the moment, but still here… and didn’t your mama ever teach you ‘sharing is caring’... all that bullshit?”

Panam chooses to ignore this, “I want to speak to V. Is she alright?” This just earns a scoff and an eye roll as V takes another drag of her cigarette. 

“She’s _fine_.” V scoffs. “I’m sure she’ll be so pleased to see her little joytoy fantasy cares.”

“Joytoy-?”

“Oh, right. You don’t know.” V laughs, cold and cruel. But it’s not really V’s laugh, Panam reminds herself again. This isn’t V at all. This is a stranger. “Or maybe you do. I mean, she _did_ make a move, didn’t she? First sandstorm, on the couch?” V laughs again. “Pathetic, you know. Her, really. Maybe you, too. You always get her all hot and bothered like some horny fucking dog.” V's hand trails down her chest, down between her legs where she grabs herself through her jeans. " _Always._ "

"Don't talk about V like that." She knows she sounds like a child; like some kid finding out their parents aren't all they're cracked up to be. "V isn't like that, she doesn't think of me like that. We're just friends."

V scoffs, "Looks like someone didn't get the memo." The smirk on her lips is cold and callous. "Pretty sure she thinks about you more than this entire fucked up situation, you know. Your pretty little head's always on her mind…" V's eyes flick down Panam's body. "Among other things. But you don't swing that way, do you? You're not into bitches?" V laughs again, hollow, "Unless V's not bitchy enough for you. Doesn't have all the wrong parts, I guess. Not half bad either,"

" _Enough_ ." Panam hisses through clenched teeth. V stands and tosses the cigarette aside, cockily swaggering toward Panam with that stupid lazy smirk still plastered on her features. V brings her fists up, cracking her knuckles. Panam backs away, eyes narrowing until she bumps into the table behind her. She's seen what those hands have done to other people, what _V_ has done to other people… but this still isn't V. 

"You think you can save her." B's features draw into a mocking pout. "Don't you?"

"I _can_ ." Panam growls. "I _will_." 

V laughs, "You're so certain. But if Ara-fuckin'-saka couldn't, how could _you_ ? A little street rat from bum-fucking nowhere, a piece of desert- _fucking_ -trash." V stands in front of Panam now, leaning forward. They're just barely touching, V's hands right beside Panam's and digging into the metal table hard enough to leave indents. V continues, "I like you, Panam. But you're in over your head. This'll be my body soon, _my_ mind. You can't stop it. Once these six months are up, I'll be calling the shots."

"I won't let that happen." Panam growls. V leans in closer, her hair brushing against Panam's face as V breathes against Panam's ear.

"She'll die without me, you know. Even _you_ can't stop her from dying. She's already a dead woman walking." V's voice is cruel. Panam doesn't like it, she doesn't like seeing someone she loves as Johnny's mouthpiece. These aren't V's words, Panam knows it.

But even so, it's still her voice. It's still V's body in front of Panam and it still feels _real_.

"I'll fix her." Panam says, and she's sure of it.

"I'm sure you will." V crows, harsh laughter spilling from her lips. "But I'm afraid our time is being cut short. Someone woke the baby," for a moment V continues to laugh, but soon she goes still… silent. She slumps over against Panam, limp and lifeless. Panam cradles V close; the woman a solid weight in Panam's arm. She can feel V breathing, she can hear it against the she'll of her ear.

Finally, "Panam?" 

V's voice this time, _really_ V's voice. Soft, raspy… lilted with concern and curiosity.

" _Shit_ , V," Panam mumbles, burying her face in V's neck as she hugged her close. "I thought I fucking lost you for a second."

"Yeah?" V asks, trying to regain her balance. Her tongue is like a block of concrete in her mouth, her body heavy and foreign. She doesn't feel like herself, not in the slightest. "I did too… fuck, I feel like I'm hungover." V runs a hand through her hair. 

Mitch runs back in through the flap of the tent, but Panam holds a hand up. He pauses, faltering, but Panam mouths _'wait outside'_ , and though it's clear he might not want to Mitch obeys.

"I… Johnny had me, didn't he?" V asks once she's standing on her own. She looks like shit, pale and haggard. Panam worries her lip between her teeth, glancing away. She doesn't avert her gaze for long, but it's clearly enough for something in V to sink. "Whatever he said, I'm sorry." Her apology is automatic.

"It wasn't you." Panam says softly. "You have nothing to apologize for, V. Not at all."

"I know." V rubs at her eyes, like if she does it'll clear away whatever's going on inside her head. "But I care about you, and…" 

"And?"

"I don't want to lose you. And Johnny's a prick," V grimaces, a lance of pain shooting through her skull, "and whatever he said… I doubt it's good."

"It wasn't." Panam confirms, placing a hand against V's bicep. "But I know you. You're not him, V. You're not like that." V doesn't seem so convinced, and Panam doesn't blame her. V's a killer, a merc. She's not a good person, and maybe Panam isn't either. But Panam knows V, she knows she's not like Silverhand… not in the slightest, even if V or Johnny feels or says differently.

"Panam, I…" 

"I care about you too, for what it's worth." Panam offers a small, lopsided smile. "A lot. But V…?" Panam almost asks if what Johnny says is true, if V's feelings run deeper. But she trails off, extinguishing the thought and the words. V's answer, whatever it may be, is something that changes things; it changes their relationship, it changes their dynamic. Maybe, Panam thinks, she's scared of that. Maybe she's scared she'll fuck it up.

"But what?" V asks, oblivious to Panam's plight.

Instead, though she's still rattled, Panam offers a slight grin, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes, "You still look like shit. That's what. C'mon, let's have Mitch check you out… then we'll figure out where to go from there."


End file.
